Tides of Change
by theincomparableswan
Summary: A scorned queen, a stolen heart and a destroyed compass later, and Hook finds himself waking in a locked room on his own ship with a new crew member to keep him company: Emma Swan. Both will do anything to return to Storybrooke - but that may just be what Cora is counting on. An alternate storyline following Hook and Cora's conversation in 2x08. Captain Swan.
1. Prologue

_Umph! _

Hook landed with a resounding thud and, not for the first time that day, resented Emma Swan for double crossing him. _That damn girl. _Then, looking up, he let out an exasperated sigh. _That damn beanstalk. _If the whole situation had turned out differently, if there was another way to get to Storybrooke besides the compass, he might've laughed – the overwhelming irony of the fact that he'd hoped she would be the one to journey with him was almost comical. But the situation wasn't different, regrettably, and Hook found himself wishing he'd been less trusting and more cunning. His actions in the giant's castle were disturbingly uncharacteristic of him and the reputation he'd developed. Falsely believing that his day couldn't get any worse, Hook internally cursed when an unwelcome voice spoke out behind him.

"Dear Captain, it seems like you've been on quite an adventure!"

Cora. Though the powers she possessed definitely posed their benefits if you were on the right side, her value as an ally lessened for each time she inflicted her condescension upon him. In saying that though, it wasn't like he had any other options – he'd already tried that path and it hadn't worked out so well. In fact, he'd been, quite literally, screwed over. He, _Captain Hook, _daring pirate and master of the seas, had been screwed over by a nobody; some _Emma Swan_, he thought angrily.

As he turned around, she spoke again, holding out her hand presumptuously – "The compass, please."

He laughed without humour internally. _I think not. _Uncomfortable on two accounts – his recent failure and fear of evoking Cora's spite once he told of his wasted efforts – Hook downplayed the severity of their predicament in his typical aloof manner, hoping, rather than believing, that she would see past his ill-timed incompetency. And, in a surprise that came as a shock to precisely no one, Cora was unsympathetic. He got the feeling that she'd already known, even before he spoke, that he'd returned sans the compass, but had merely asked for it anyway to torment him; the angry expression that'd crossed her face when she'd held out her hand giving her away. Further still, it was clear she hadn't expected him to double cross her as he'd once done to her daughter, and was now exacting her revenge by refusing to indulge his pathetic insistence of his loyalty to her; her eyes glazing over, her mind already made up, Storybrooke a now distant dream. She shook her head, swiftly silencing him. "I don't have time for your games. I've crossed through too many worlds to be brought short at the brink of success." Hook narrowed his eyes resentfully, his mood changing as quickly as she'd cut him off. _And what, he hadn't traversed the world in search of his enemy? He hadn't endured the physical torments of losing someone and experienced the merciless nature of Time, which had held him trapped and unable to enact his revenge for so long? He'd been to bloody Neverland, for god's sake! _Adopting a deceptively polite tone – the woman sure knew how to inspire fear – Cora continued, "Who was it who bested you?"

Taken aback by the change in conversation, Hook hesitated – should he rat Swan out and leave her to face Cora's wrath? Or should he act selflessly and deliver a lie despite Swan's seemingly instinctive ability to double cross him? He took but a moment to consider both options before responding.

"The Swan girl, Emma." He was indeed a gentleman, but he was also a pirate after all, and when someone double crossed him, they didn't deserve any favours the way he saw it. The moment those manacles had touched his skin, Hook's flair for vengeance had sparked, only to be enflamed when she left him there, taking with her some of his pride. And it was worse, if that was possible, having to admit to his incompetency out loud. "Rest assured, it won't happen again," he added. And it wouldn't. Hook had been bested for the last time.

She laughed without humour. "No, it won't. You chose her and the consequences of that decision." For a second, Hook thought he saw her drop the façade as a flicker of hurt crossed her face, but dismissed it as soon as it came, chalking it up to her anger at the 'betrayal.' But she was right; no matter which way you looked at it, he had chosen Swan. It would be easy – reassuring even – to say that she was the safer choice, that he merely chose her company because he thought they could retrieve the compass faster as a group. But it was more than that. She was an open book and, in reading her, something had immediately drawn him in. He had genuinely wanted to be around her; hell, he might've even liked her if she hadn't screwed him over – and that was the unavoidable truth. Pushing the disgusting thought from his mind, Hook recovered in time to give Cora a dose of her own medicine: "Are you going to kill me now?" Patronising. Testing. Confident.

Hook was a cunning and brave man – there was no doubt about it – but the look Cora gave him in that next instant was enough to make even him a little nervous. In the blink of an eye, Hook saw the immediate future, but was powerless to stop it as it translated to the present. His heart clenched, and he looked down reluctantly, only to be met with a horrifyingly familiar sight. No, _No. _Cora's hand, firmly inserted between his ribs, was squeezing. And tightly. His eyes betrayed his fear, and a well repressed memory made its way back to the surface, haunting him; ruining him all over again.

Cora let out her trademark mirthless laugh. "Of course not, my dear captain! That would be too kind of me." She grinned, his unease a welcoming sight before her, and continued, "No, what I have planned for you is much more –" she paused then, leaning in to enjoy his tortured expression, "– interesting." The 'dot dot dot' in her voice was audible as her lips wrapped around the last word, savouring a rare delicacy. And with that, she pulled her hand back, Hook's heart in tow. Those innocent eyes and that sweet smile which had befallen the death of many before him were the last things he saw before his mind seeped into the awaiting oblivion, and he collapsed.


	2. Chapter 1

_The ship swayed, and Milah's face contorted. Her blue eyes shrunk, sunk in, and began to turn a deep shade of brown; so deep they could almost be mistaken for black. Her long brown hair, which he loved so much, also started to shrivel up, morphing into a murky grey colour just as the smooth complexion of her skin and the dark red of her lips were replaced by swampy, mustardy green scales. Fingernails became painted claws; hands, their equally rough counterpart. Hook took a disbelieving step back: before him stood Rumplestiltskin. The Crocodile. _

"_What's the matter, dearie?" his sworn enemy delighted, shifting from foot to foot. "You don't want me?" he continued, his high-pitched childish sing-song voice ringing out as he feigned disappointment._

_Hook's expression hardened and a burning desire for revenge took over. To be able to penetrate his scaly armour, to reach in with his hand – no, his hook – and rip the crocodile's heart mercilessly from its shell; there was nothing he wanted more. It was the moment he lived for, the moment he breathed for; waited for. This was the creature that'd killed his true love and taken away his hand for good measure. Many a time Hook had dreamed of the light in the crocodile's eyes dying as squeezed the life out of his heart. Hook would be cruel, to be sure, and for the trouble the coward had gone to in removing his hand, Hook would repay the favour by keeping just one of his; a memento of his successful revenge; a gift bestowed as a parting gesture. The rest of The Dark One could be fed to the sharks. But even they may not want him. _

_Hook gripped the hilt of his sword, pulling it from his belt. "You are _not_ her," he said through gritted teeth, any traces of sadness now overcome by a dangerous anger. He had saved the magnitude of his true feelings for this opportunity, but now they burst forward, unchecked, yearning to attack and destroy the enemy which stood before him. Sword first, the pirate made for the crocodile, seizing his opportunity while it lasted. But just as the tip was about pierce, Rumplestiltskin vanished in a puff of red smoke, leaving Hook to thrash blindly in the darkened corner._

"_Over here, dearie" the crocodile teased behind him._

_Whipping around and simultaneously jabbing out his sword in the hopes of catching his foe off-guard, Hook was frustrated to be met for a second time by thin air. _

"_Caaap-tain!" Rumplestiltskin sung out from behind once again, his face changing as another manufactured voice took the vocal reigns, "at least make this a little bit more interesting for me!". And just when Hook was about to let his blade do the answering, the sword poised high above his head, he faltered, unconsciously lowering his weapon and furrowing his eyebrows in confusion at the familiar way the crocodile had said 'interesting.' _

"_Interesting?" he questioned before he could stop himself._

"_Yes –" the crocodile spoke slowly, frozen mid-dance. And before Hook could blink and place the unsettling de-javu feeling, Rumplestiltskin crossed the space separating them to stand mere millimetres away from the pirate, their faces almost touching. Only, it wasn't Rumplestiltskin now. It was Cora, whetting her lips delightedly. "Interesting" she drawled out, finishing the crocodile's sentence. The room swayed again more violently and everything went black._

Hook's eyes flew open and he bolted upright from the hard floor he'd been lying on. His head pounded in a disorientating, incessant way, but most uncomfortable was the aching pain in his chest that had awoken from seeing Milah again. She had worn the same worried expression in the dream as she had before her heart was mercilessly ripped out by his foe. Chills ran down his spine and Hook barely supressed a shudder as the worst memory he held resurfaced once again, parading itself around his mind, refusing to leave him in peace. As always, the memory brought up two opposing emotions – the former, unsurprisingly, being the empty space within him that had formed from the burden of losing his one true love and the accompanying longing to be with her; the latter being his all-consuming and unavoidable hatred for The Dark One. And hatred was only the beginning of it; from there stemmed as many possible ways of enacting his revenge as the number of voices the crocodile possessed; each being slow and carefully drawn out with torturous precision. Hook would make him _feel _it, the way he felt when he had to endure through the years without Milah. Rage, he found, was all-consuming, but not always without clarity: no, Hook could see, the way one would if they looked through the opposite end of a telescope – emotion narrowed down to a purpose – the exact expression on the crocodile's face when he realised that the pirate he so easily dismissed would be the last one to best him before his perfectly-timed destruction. Feeling suddenly reinvigorated by thoughts of revenge, Hook attempted to stand up and ascertain his surroundings. Sweat blurred his vision, but the swaying of the room immediately allowed him to deduce that he was on a ship. And by the looks of it, the room didn't belong to just any ordinary ship, but to his.

"Hook?" not realising there was someone else in the room, Hook turned to the hand that was placed comfortingly on his shoulder. The voice was all too familiar, the last time he'd heard it being when _she_ walked away from him, having just left him for dead in the lair of a very big, and very angry giant. This voice belonged to Emma Swan.

"Well, if it isn't the charming Swan girl" he said, turning to her and sweeping into an exaggerated bow. "Here to double cross me again?" he added, straightening up. Each word was drenched in bitterness.

Emma jerked her hand back into now folded arms, her mouth hardening indignantly into an expression which, quite frankly, screamed that she was pissed off. _Wonder what that must feel like, _Hook mused sarcastically.

"I told you," she began, "I can't take a cha –"

"– chance that you're wrong about me? Yeah, yeah. I've heard it before, love," he cut her off angrily, striding past her and resenting the fact that she felt the need to say it again. He tried the door, which was unsurprisingly locked, and rattled it anyway as if his anger would be able to do something his hands couldn't.

"I've already tried that, it's locked" she spoke from behind.

"Yes, thank you, I gathered that" he responded sarcastically, turning around as he said it to see her eyes roll and her mouth twitch up at the ends. Well at least someone was enjoying themselves. Disheartened, he walked back, avoiding her eyes as he did so, and leaned sidelong against the wall. "So," he spoke tiredly, "how did Emma Swan come to be aboard myship?"

She snorted derisively, "This is _your _ship?". Then, noticing his expression, she quickly recovered. "Same as you, I assume."

Hook remained passive, waiting for her to continue. In truth, he had no idea how he'd come to be locked on his own ship; whatever had happened in the past couple of days – or was it hours? – seemed to be eluding him.

"Cora?" she tried, realising that she would have to remind him. _Cora._ Of course, who else? And that was when he remembered their last meeting, everything flooding back in a rush of fear, anger and incredulity. His eyes widened as a distressing realisation dawned on him, his hand immediately flying to the skin protecting the space where his heart should be. Fingertips determined a definite scar and, to his horror, no heartbeat could be traced. For a second, Hook felt an unbearable uncertainty take hold as he was suddenly faced with the very real possibility of dying at any moment. But it passed as quickly as it came, only to be replaced by a maddening hatred and a blinding redness. _Red. _It would be the colour Cora would see when he got her back for this. It would be the colour of her heart as he ripped it from her chest, and the colour of the dust it crumbled to when his fingertips dug in, his hand squeezing without so much effort. It would be the colour of –

_Whack! _

Startled out of his reverie, Hook focussed on Emma as her face contorted in pain, clutching her hand and then shaking it a few times to quell the sting.

"Did you just hit me?" he looked at her incredulously whilst rubbing his cheek. The lass was certifiably crazy.

She rolled her eyes, and spoke breathlessly from the adrenaline, "Well… I've been… calling… your name… for the past… minute!"

He chuckled, fully recovered from the little slap. "Sweetheart, if I had known that was the way to get your attention," he began suggestively, stepping forward to close the distance between them, "I'd have tried it a _long_ time ago." Now face to face, Hook leant down until their eyes were level. Blue met green, and Emma took a cautious step back; his proximity raising the hairs on her neck and her heartbeat audibly picking up as she gulped nervously. Hook grinned at her reaction; an expression which seemingly inspired the opposite effect in her as she recovered to deliver the same exasperated expression she usually gave, the walls going up again.

"Enough with the suggestive lines, Hook. This may come as a shock to you, but pirates aren't my type" she quietly condescended, adding interest to his usual aloof demeanour. He'd like to say that her cool attitude gave the impression of just that; tough and unconcerned. Nevertheless, the more time he spent around the Swan girl, the more he could pick up on her façade. And it was amusing – to say the least – that he could so easily work his way under her skin, but also frustrating, in that she refused to let herself trust anyone; refused to give in to his wicked charm. It made the challenge that much more difficult, but _oh _so much more fun. Still watching her closely, Hook couldn't repress the slightest concern for her when she turned around and surveyed her hand, it clearly still giving her grief as she muttered under her breath about how they made it look 'deceptively easy in the movies' – whatever _that_ was.

He didn't doubt that she could take care of herself, but the gentleman instinct within him was too strong, he fancied, and so, without a word, he took her good hand in his own and dragged her towards the barrels stacked at the other end of the room. "What are you doing?" she said, immediately resisting his pull, but apparently giving up when no reply seemed imminent. Having determined which barrel was best for the job at hand, Hook opened the lid and pulled out a bottle.

"Oh no, you know what, rum isn't going to work this time," she paused, holding up her hand as if to state the obvious when she realised what he planned on doing. "See? No cut, just a swollen hand" she added, giving him a smug smile and pulling away.

"Shutup Swa –" he broke off whilst attempting to retrieve her hand and then, thinking better of it, he amended "sweetheart." Flashing a devilish smile and looking up at her from beneath low eyelids, Hook went on, "Do you honestly presume to know more than a pirate when it comes to rum?" Silence pervaded the room as he held her gaze, and he took her passive expression as affirmation of her co-operation: "Just as I thought, now give me your hand and stop pouting."

She placed her hand in his own, a small smile making its way to her lips as she relaxed a little. It was different to the last time when she'd stayed tense, Hook thought, and he found himself wishing that she'd wear the expression more often, though he'd never admit to that out loud. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell she was looking at him in a dazed sort of manner, the way one does when their eyes glaze over after looking at something too long.

"Do you like what you see, love?" he spoke, breaking her from her thoughts and causing her cheeks to flush in embarrassment.

"Just get on with it" she returned, pursing her lips and looking away.

He grinned. _Oh _the satisfaction to be had in seeing her wasted attempt at pretending she was unfazed by him. "I'm done, Swan" he countered.

"What?" She turned back quickly, retracting her hand and raising her eyebrows in surprise at the apparent lack of pain she now felt.

Hook let out an amused laugh at her expression. "Never underestimate the power of cold-stored rum, lass" he said gently, quietly. "Oh, and by the way," he started, patting her alcoholic hand dry with some material from his tunic, "Pirates are everybody's type" he finished, winking arrogantly.

A moment passed before she breathed her thanks, exhaling as she did so like it was a struggle to concede that he'd been nice in helping her.

"It's no problem, love. Because, see, now you're going to do something for me" he returned, a plan forming in his mind as he folded his arms triumphantly and a lazy smile found its way to his lips.

"Well, you're even more delusional than I thought" she said, refusing out of instinct to indulge his request.

Unfazed, Hook continued, "The way I see it, the tally board now stands at Hook: three favours, to Swan: zero" he finished, waiting for her to rebuff him again. Oh, how he enjoyed their little games. He was surprised, then, to be met with silence and furrowed brows.

After a while of patiently waiting for a smooth retort on Emma's behalf, she spoke, voice monotonous and hard as an equally stony expression graced her face; "What do you want me to do?"

"Oooh, always so serious!" he spoke mockingly, feigning shivers, and continued, "don't be so tense, love, it's nothing too difficult – just a few questions I'll need you to answer for me." His tone was light and reassuring, but her eyes narrowed shrewdly, no doubt thinking it must be some kind of trick.

"Fine" she began, "I'll do this, but on one condition."

Then it was Hook's turn to narrow his eyes in suspicion. What gave her the right to impose conditions? He folded his arms, lowering his head and pressing his lips against one of the many rings on his fingers, deliberating. "Not that you've done anything to deserve more favours, but I am a gentleman, so, pray tell, what is this condition, Swan?"

She raised her chin confidently, in a way that would suggest she'd done it many times before. "You want to destroy Rumplestiltskin, yes?" she began.

_Well, this is going in a surprising direction, _Hook thought, but nodded nevertheless.

She nodded along with him, having expected the reply, and then paused, unsure of how best to proceed. "So, I know your kind. I've seen Regina do everything in her power to take down Mary Margaret, and I've witnessed the pain of the people she's hurt along the way in her… her blind quest for vengeance" she went on, fumbling through her words as she did so. But her expression changed then, and she walked forward intently to where he stood leaning against the wall until they were face to face. "In light of that, and given your former association with Regina, I'd hedge my bets that there is _always _collateral damage when it comes to you. My condition is that you ensure there won't be, whatever your plan. Because if there is," she said carefully, her quiet voice full of menace, "and you hurt the people I care about," she paused, "I will have to hurt you back."

Hook did not laugh, and he did not smile. He could respect her request, but he could not guarantee that he would remain faithful to it, much as he might want to for her sake. And, if managed, it would be for her sake, because something about her touched what little moral conscience he had left inside; made him want to be better. But he could not fool himself into thinking that it was possible to avoid harming people in the process of achieving what he wanted – indeed, his plan already involved the unavoidable harming of an innocent, though an argument could be made that any considered to be stupid enough to fraternise with the crocodile deserved what came for them, the way he saw it. He'd declared to Emma that he was a gentleman, but the hand of chivalry, of respect, only extended so far. Unfortunately for her, the condition she'd set was reaching just beyond that, crossing into pirate territory where he was only so eager to betray her as his title and reputation would dictate. And for that reason came his regretful reply, and a lie that it was in being delivered without a hint of dishonesty.

"You have my word, Swan, that no harm at my hands will befall your family, friends, nor any other associated with the crocodile" he said smoothly, looking her straight in the eye as he placed his palm against his chest in honour.

She stayed in her position for a few more moments, eyes boring into his, searching for any traces of deceit. Satisfied but still wary, she nodded and backed off a few steps, then turned away in thought. As she did so, Hook was suddenly reminded of her special 'talent' and could not stop the flicker of fear he felt next from trespassing across his face. What if she already suspected he was lying? What if this was all a ruse in order to lull him into a false sense of security; let him feel like he was in control? Such questions were better suited to another time though, away from her prying eyes.

"Sweetheart?" he spoke searchingly, breaking her ruminations after having recovered from his moment of doubt. She turned around as he went on, "time to make good on your word."

Pursing her lips in annoyance, she raised her arm with her palm facing upwards, gesturing for him to continue.

"Now, where to start?" he taunted, his lips stretching into a wide grin.

"Try the beginning" she replied sardonically, her arms having reverted to their perpetually folded state again.

"Too right, lass" he said after a moment's pause. "So how did you come to be aboard my ship?"

"I already told you – "

"Yes, I know, Cora. What I meant was, how did she find you?"

Sighing, she continued "Well once I came down from the beanstalk with the compass," – _you mean, once you'd double crossed me, _Hook thought, noticing her deliberate avoidance of the elephant in the room – "we set off to find the place which would allow us to return to Storybrooke. And after you'd mentioned the stolen ash Cora possessed, the second half of the puzzle became clear, so all we had to do was make our way back to the castle and retrieve the remains. I had estimated that we would have, more or less, a ten hour window until Cora surmised your betrayal and you returned from the castle" she began, now pacing back and forth. "But it turned out I was too generous in that allowance," she went on exasperatedly, clearly annoyed at herself for having underestimated her enemies' time management skills. "Because by the time we reached the castle, Cora was there waiting for us, one step ahead. And, as you've probably guessed, swords and arrows don't do much against the likes of magic."

Even though he had no sympathy for her – after all, she only gained the compass through screwing him over, to put it eloquently – he did find it hard not to empathise with her resent for Cora.

"We put up a good fight, but when it was clear we were going to lose, Mary Margaret – " she broke off with a sudden intake of air, looking down sadly, worrying Hook for a moment that she was about to cry. But she recovered quickly with a shake of her head, and went on; " – she stabbed the compass with her dagger, figuring that if we weren't going back, then she wasn't going to let Cora get there either and destroy the town." Hook had to hand it to the princess, she had guts to ruin her only way of returning to her family in order to protect them and guarantee their safety. But more pressing now was the fact that he'd lost his route back to the crocodile. He'd been so damn close!

"Wait," Hook spoke, his thoughts blurting out loud as another thought crossed his mind. "Why not kill you then? Why bring you here, but not the others? Seemingly, you pose no advantage without the compass, so why keep you alive when you're more likely to hinder her plans than help?"

"I don't know!" she yelled in frustration, as if this question, more than anything else he'd asked so far, was something she wanted to avoid, leading Hook to believe she'd already been struggling with the same issue since she woke up on his ship. "I have no idea! She got really, _really _angry after Mary Margaret did that and, next thing I know, she's performing some kind of immobilising spell on us," Emma spoke very fast now, pent up distress rushing out of her, as if the imaginary barrage which kept her emotions at bay had just broken under the pressure, and everything she'd been feeling for the past few days had just been given free reign over her every action and word. She went on: "And I don't remember anything after that because I blacked out! So don't ask me anymore questions because I have no idea where Mary Margaret is, I have no idea if she's okay or if I'll ever see Henry again, and I am stuck! I am stuck in this stupid room, with your stupid barrels of rum, and all I… I can think about is getting back to Storybrooke!" she finished, well and truly shouting by the end, clutching her stomach as she shifted on her feet, her mouth downturned like a scared child.

Hook marched up to her without a second thought, any problems he had with Rumplestiltskin now temporarily non-existent. His shock at her outburst had initially rendered him immobile, but now that the tirade was over and he could process the memory of the way her eyes had pleaded with him for understanding and, yet, had been so angry at the same time, he felt spurred into action; determined to retrieve the strong, smooth talking Emma he'd only known for a few days, but had already come to feel for.

Whilst she continued to hyperventilate, he stood in front of her, as close as he could without physical contact, and placed his hand against her cheek. He stared down at her intently then, removing an unruly strand of hair off her face so he could see her better. "Emma, love," he spoke softly but firmly, "Look at me."

Breathing heavily, she reluctantly met his gaze, their faces inches apart. "I am not going to tell you that it'll be okay, because neither of us know that" he began. "But," he paused, making sure she understood him, "I promise that I will help you find Mary Margaret."

Their eyes held and she nodded slowly, calming down at his gentle touch. Her cheeks, still flushed, sent hot tingles through his hands, ignited first by the smoothness of her skin against his fingertips. As her breathing gradually slowed and she relaxed slightly, Hook waited for the inevitable moment when she'd indicate that his comforting was no longer necessary; when she'd look away without feeling the same sensations as those coursing through his body in that instant. But the moment never came, and for every second that passed, it became increasingly obvious to them both that she'd recovered. Their gaze lingered on until it surpassed the boundaries of social etiquette, and Hook found himself instinctively pressing his body against hers, drawn in by her green eyes which still glistened and burned with tears that had refused to fall. Tension between them simmered dangerously, threatening to boil over at any second and catalyse a moment they'd both regret later. But in the slightest of movements – as Hook's fingertips inched upwards to her hair – Emma became suddenly, soberly aware of their position and spoke without thinking, her voice breaking the silence and simultaneously invoking a sense of foolishness within him at what almost happened.

"Cora took your heart, didn't she?"

It was phrased as a question, but the tone of her voice told him she already knew the answer. His hand fell lifelessly from its position against her cheek, his jaw clenching as he looked up, avoiding her gaze.

"I'm sorry" she said. There was no softness in her voice, but there was also no patronising pity and it was the single-most genuine thing he'd heard from her all night. He looked back down and was just about to say something when there was a creak to the right of them, and they both turned towards the sound.

The door flew open, and there, summoned from hell itself by the mention of her name, was Cora.

As they registered her presence, speechless, her expression of barely concealed hatred morphed into one of utter glee.

"My, _my! _What have I stumbled into?!"


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: alohaaa friends! **

**As you've probably noticed, I didn't get round to posting an AN on my first two uploads, hence why I'm doing it now. **

**Just a few things – this is my first fanfic, so while I appreciate the constructive criticism (seriously, keep it coming), don't be too harsh hahaha. **

**Hopefully I answered some of your questions in this chapter, although it's probably replaced them with new ones…. **

**Also, I've been writing Hook under the assumption that he has blue eyes, which, under closer inspection, turn out to be more green than anything – so apologies if I offended anyone with that. **

**And lastly, thankyou so much to anyone who reviewed/followed and especially favourited. It's really nice to know that people appreciate your hard work :) **

**And for anyone who can't get enough of Captain Swan from my writing, you should be aware that the last two episode of ouat have been titled with references to the peter pan novel and, by extension, Hook. WOOOOOOOO! GET KEEN! **

**Oh, and enjoyyyyy xxxxxxxx**

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From head to toe, Cora epitomised the very notion of an evil queen.

Garbed entirely in some kind of midnight ink material with all the proper gatherings and furnishings for a woman of her title, Emma thought the dark colour could not have been more appropriate to reflect her regal and, yet, mysterious, devious nature. She was like one of those deceptively innocent flowers, which lured in their unassuming prey only to trap them when they landed on inviting petals. And indeed, Cora was worse; she didn't just devour them, she took their hearts and kept them as trophies of her conquests, saving them for a time when she needed a pawn to carry out her work, and then discarding them just as easily when they'd paid their worth or posed no further advantages. _Like she taught her daughter, _Emma thought resentfully, a huntsman trespassing across her mind. She didn't know much about Cora, but if she was anything like her offspring, the only way to deal with her was to keep from playing her games.

"Well, I dare say, I seem to be interrupting something" she continued, her voice rising at the end in question, prompting an explanation. Though her tone had been friendly, playful even, no one in the room was fooled by the fact that she wasn't giving them the option. Emma and Hook remained silent, separating a few steps and avoiding each other's eyes. Suspicion coursed through Emma, instantly putting her defences up – something was off about Cora's almost… _happy? _expression.

"Just being a gentleman is all, love" she heard Hook say. Nothing about his stance or the tone of his voice suggested he thought of her as 'love', though.

"Oh, Captain," she chuckled in amusement, "Don't fool yourself; I doubt you even know the meaning of the word." The condescension in her voice was like a fourth entity in the room, provoking narrowed eyes from Hook.

Already sick of the sight of her, Emma got straight to the point. "Why are we here?" she said sternly. With folded arms and a steely expression, she watched as Cora's attention turned to her and the smile became infinitesimally smaller.

"You're here because I need you to be" she replied calmly, but in a way that feigned confusion, like it should have been so obvious to them.

Emma snorted derisively and glanced at Hook, who – with his lips slightly parted in recognition – looked as if he'd just remembered something that now made sense, or connected the dots between two memories. While he remained in thought, no doubt forming a plan in his mind, she addressed Cora again, not interested in waiting around for her to make use of them when she so desired.

"Lady, if you think that I'm going to do anything for you, you better think again." Her lips instinctively quirked up at one end and her stance became more confident as soon as the words were spoken, like they'd just lent her the extra mental resilience she needed. She'd dealt with Cora's kind before (or similar, because even Regina and Rumple held redeemable features, where she didn't) and thus felt comfortable in her ability to hold her own ground against such magical forces. Plus, in light of recent events – events that she'd withheld from Hook's little interrogation session – Emma felt more than assured in the limitations she presented for someone of Cora's… specific talent. For the most part, she'd told Hook the truth of what'd transpired at the castle where the ashes remained, but there was something she'd deliberately missed out…

_It was impossible. _

_They weren't going to win; not if everything they did continued to be thwarted by Cora, as it was being now. Even with Mulan's magical deflection sword, Mary Margaret's impeccable aim and her own perfectly-timed parries, it still felt as though they were battling a small army; scratch that – a small magic-wielding army. Outmatched in every aspect by spells Cora had mastered presumably before any of them had even lived, Emma felt herself instinctively glance over at her mother, taking note of the desperation which increased in presence for every arrow Cora blocked. She couldn't process it for long, though, before she had to jump out of the way, narrowly missing a fireball thrown in her direction. _

_She jumped up, preparing to receive a consecutive blow, but instead watched as Cora directed another spell, this time at Mulan who, taken by surprise, ducked rather than blocking the incantation with her sword and then observed on in horror as it sped towards an unarmed and undefended Aurora standing behind. _

_Aurora's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' as the fire connected with her stomach and she was flung violently against the wall. There was a sickening crack and a sharp intake of air that, for a moment, was the only thing that could be heard; the battle falling silent. Aurora's eyes rolled up and her lids closed, slumping down into an unconscious – maybe lifeless – position. Mulan screamed, and in that instant, three things became very clear between Mary Margaret and herself as they traded glances: _

_The first; with Mulan distracted by Aurora, there was no way the two of them could hope to defend themselves against Cora. _

_The second; if Cora got the compass, who knows what kind of hell she'd raise back at Storybrooke – an unsuspecting town lying in wait._

_The third; ….. They still had the compass. _

_Charged with energy and seeing no other option to their current predicament, Emma nodded in stiff agreement; in unspoken recognition of the step that they had no choice but to take for the sake of their loved ones – for the sake of Henry. A determined expression settled on Mary Margaret's face once again as she made towards a preoccupied Mulan, not wasting any time to see if Cora had put together their plan, or even noticed what they were doing. Shoving Mulan aside and simultaneously disarming her to obtain the sword made impenetrable by magic, Mary Margaret looked over at Emma in indication of readiness, fully aware that Cora's attention was now on them, realisation dawning on her face. The next second that passed truly played out as if in slow mode:_

_Emma, with sweat dripping down her temples, threw the compass to Mary Margaret. Her heartbeat slowed in fear and anticipation as she gazed upon the watch-like object soaring through empty space. In the background, she was distantly aware of Cora shouting and navy blue arrow-like sparks penetrating through the air before them, just missing their target. An achingly long moment later, and yet impossibly sooner than expected, the compass arrived in Mary Margaret's hand, and in one stroke, she brought the sword she'd held above her head down onto the metal circle below._

_Magic collided with magic and light illuminated the room as the tip pierced the compass face and appeared through the underside. Immediately, time started moving at normal speed again, reality simultaneously hit them like a karmic tonne of bricks. They may have won the battle, but they'd just lost the war, because now they had Cora to deal with who, they realised, had become dangerously silent. Emma's heart lurched, her stomach jumping into her throat as her muscles locked down, immobilised by some invisible force. It was as if she could no longer access the energy she possessed; or rather, she could feel it as it tensed her muscles, but could not control it – strangely like trying to grasp at water while it continued to slip through her fingers. In her periphery, she could see Mary Margaret experiencing the same sensations, fear registering in her eyes. At once, they rose up, arms spreading out like wings as a faint navy glow started to surround them, now suspended in mid-air. _

_Cora walked forward slowly. _

"_You just did the one thing to ensure certain death" she spoke calmly, the look in her eye a perfect contradiction of her composed voice; hot death boiling just beneath the surface, held back by a thin veil of carefully maintained self-control. _

"_For what you have just done, I have no choice but to kill you," she went on, almost shrugging as she reaffirmed the pain she was going to put them through. Emma was silently gratefully that they had spared Storybrooke from Cora's wrath at that point. She watched as the Queen's attention turned to Mary Margaret then, the veil slipping, not bothering to conceal her unbridled rage and hatred for her – "You, my dear girl" she began more forcefully, "I will save for last." _

_With that said, she turned back to Emma, who could do nothing but look at Mary Margaret from the corner of her eyes in reassurance, hoping to convey the acceptance she felt in the face of her forthcoming demise. At least Henry was safe. _

_She closed her eyes, waiting to feel Cora's hand enter her chest. _

_But nothing happened; no pain was felt. _

_Opening her eyes in confusion, Emma was more than just a little surprised to find that Cora's hand was indeed inserted in her chest, but was not coming out with her heart in tow, much to the incessant pulling. Becoming increasingly frustrated, the Queen tugged harder and looked up at her in disbelief, anger taking on a whole new meaning as she let out an enraged scream._

_Emma couldn't smile, but she knew her eyes were doing it for her. The relieved, shocked feeling disappeared immediately though as Cora recovered – albeit still in shock – and took a calculated step back, like she'd just resolved herself towards carrying out something much, much worse. She flicked her wrist and Emma felt herself yanked from the torso towards the wall beside her in the direction of the hand movement. Everything went black. _

The memory dissolved as quickly as it had been triggered by her thoughts, and Emma was once again back in the present, focussing on Cora, still wearing the same blank expression. _She's probably a genius at poker, _Emma thought. _When she's not failing at pulling people's hearts out, _she amended smugly.

"We shall see", Cora said in return to her earlier statement. Though it stood just a minute ago that she'd been internally declaring her confidence, the tone of Cora's reply didn't fail to lessen her smile a little. And she seemed to notice, because at the flicker of concern which crossed Emma's face, her smile grew once again, pleased at having shaken her – as much as it was possible to shake someone of Emma's resilience.

"In the meantime", Cora began, already disinterested in her, "I'll be needing to speak to you, Captain."

If Hook had been expecting anything, it certainly wasn't that. Emma watched as he straightened up, suddenly wary and instantly suspicious, just as she would've been if put in his place. He looked from Cora over to her, mouth in a straight line and questions in his eyes; the same questions mirrored in her own. There was something else there as well; almost as if, in that moment, he was grappling with whom to trust – the girl who'd double crossed him, or the queen who'd literally stolen his heart. Usually good at reading people, Emma was frustrated by his now indecipherable expression. She could tell he'd made up his mind, but was intentionally keeping his choice ambiguous – and was he doing so to protect her from Cora? Or was it in order to make her feel falsely safe, only to then sweep the rug from under her feet at the last minute; betray her? He'd promised to help her find her mother, but she'd never heard of a pirate keeping their word. Hook turned back to Cora, fuelling Emma's uncertainty.

"Well, I suppose it would be rude to refuse a Queen, so…" he broke off momentarily, a fake smile settling on his face as he gestured towards the door with his hand, "… ladies first", he finished, his tone dropping, his expression instantly hard again, like he was deliberately flipping off social courtesy. Emma understood that he was by no means consenting on behalf of fear, but rather tactically choosing to follow her so that he might be able to uncover her plan, or even just procure answers.

Cora smiled pleasantly, whipping around and making towards the door as Hook followed suit without acknowledging Emma. But as he reached the door, Cora already gone, he looked over his shoulder at her one last time. Initially unreadable, his expression altered and became one resembling regret. There was a slight sadness to the lines of his face, and Emma caught herself thinking that it didn't suit him.

That was it then; he'd chosen Cora. It was the first time all night that she truly felt like crying.

He stepped over the threshold and shut the door.

.

.

.

.

.

.

He hated that; hated himself for letting her think his allegiance was with Cora. Swan hadn't even bothered with pleading or trying to change his decision, and that was the worst part. The hopeless look in her eye as her mouth formed a straight line, ever the lost child who'd built walls up to surround herself, was an image he'd sooner like to forget. He would still hold true to his promise of helping the lass find her mother, but, in all honesty, he'd made up his mind to trust neither of them seconds after Cora had requested to speak with him. Because, while having your heart stolen far outweighed being double crossed on the scale of irredeemable actions, the only person who'd yet to fail him was himself. And it was a tactical move, he reassured himself, which couldn't be disputed no matter how much he regretted putting Emma in that position.

He trudged along behind Cora, staring daggers into her back.

"Where are my crew?" he questioned icily.

"They've been taken care of." Her tone was polite, as if it was a comforting answer.

There was a tense moment's silence as they both anticipated the next question. When he spoke again, it was with barely concealed hatred. "And my heart?"

By now, they'd reached the top deck, and Hook noticed resentfully that she'd made additional furnishings to the railings and such.

"It's in a safe place", she breathed, turning to him with one hand placed on top of the other.

"No doubt guarded by magic", Hook muttered angrily, glaring at her from beneath low eyelids and then looking away, but not before witnessing her smile widen in sick enjoyment.

"Don't lose hope, my dear captain!" she cooed condescendingly. "Just co-operate with my requests, and you shall have your heart back in no time." Hook almost laughed; the tone of her voice suggested she genuinely believed that he would feel instantly reassured. As it were, he did allow a disbelieving laugh to escape.

"And why should I trust you? Forgive me darling, but taking one's heart doesn't usually inspire feelings of faith."

"You should trust me because you have no choice", Cora countered, raising her eyebrows and blinking innocently.

Hook narrowed his eyes and shifted on his feet. "Oooh, and how do you figure that?" he returned, hearing the threat and taking a deliberate step closer.

She held eye contact with him, showing no traces of fear. And it was then that he felt the empty space where his heart had been burn with a searing pain, as if someone had taken a blow torch to it. He clutched his chest, letting out an aching groan and falling to his knees. _Impossible – she isn't even holding my heart! _Through bared teeth, he somehow managed to yell at her to stop, but was met by a mirthless laugh instead.

"Amazing, isn't it? That I can now crush one's heart without having to physically hold it", she began wonderingly, and went on: "It's a spell I recently mastered: you have to already possess the heart, of course, but once you have it, you can squeeze the life out of the person anytime, anywhere, without it having to be in your company." She drew out the words, emphasising each one of them in a gleeful tone; wholly excited by the possibilities the new incantation presented, as Hook continued to endure through the pain, not really listening.

After a moment of enjoying the prospects, the torture abruptly ceased, her hand unclenching around the invisible heart. Then, sighing: "I think I've made my point", she said down to him, still panting and on his knees as he massaged his chest.

Eventually, he got to his feet and levelled with her once more, mentally sharpening his hook. He wanted to say something; wanted to threaten her or refuse to play along with her plan – anything that would hinder her efforts in retaliation for what she'd done to him. But the unbearable feeling of the fire that had raged like an inferno in his chest, spreading through his veins and eventually engulfing every cell, every bone in the empty space that remained, kept him silent; the words caught in his throat. Instead, he settled to glare at her with an anger so ferocious, it was a wonder she didn't wither up and die right then and there.

Cora, unfazed and deducing her victory, inhaled and began again: "Now that the consequences have been established, we can begin the information part of our little discussion."

Hook remained passive, deciding that he would no longer divulge his feelings and give her the satisfaction of seeing him uncomfortable. He had taken a blow to his ego tonight; first, from Emma when she'd been the one – instead of him – to interrupt the kiss they'd both wanted, and second, from the woman standing before him, for reasons that were self-explanatory.

"I need you to gain the Swan girl's trust", Cora continued without hesitation.

"_What?!" _he spat, immediately throwing the promise he'd just made to himself out the door, and regarding her incredulously.

"Oh I'm sorry, do I need to repeat myself?" she delivered sarcastically.

Hook did a double take. That was definitely _not _what he was expecting; in fact, it was such an unbelievable request that she may as well have asked him to sort out his differences with the crocodile over a nice cup of tea. As he gradually began to register what she'd said though, another realisation dawned on him; one that gave him the hope that he may not have to serve her after all.

"It won't work", he said confidently, watching her eyebrows raise, her interest piqued.

"And why should it not?" she queried pleasantly.

"For a number of reasons, actually," he began, his stance relaxing, an air of arrogance returning. "All of which make it near impossible to win her over."

Cora smiled, perhaps having anticipated some kind of buffer from him, but gesturing nevertheless for him to continue.

"Well, for one, Emma has – as she puts it – a 'special talent' that allows her to almost _always_ detect when someone is lying" he spoke mockingly. "She'll see right through the lines you give me to feed her," he finished triumphantly, folding his arms.

"Oh, I don't think that will be a problem", she countered, unconcerned with the argument he was presenting.

Hook's confidence began to waver ever so slightly, but he went on: "And then there's the problem of her trust issues – doesn't like me, that young lass; I remind her too much of one of her past lovers", he concluded matter-of-factly, shrugging as he feigned regret.

"Still, it shouldn't be too difficult for you to manage…", she trailed off and leant in intimidatingly, before going on: "not without the proper motivation." Her smile extended into a grin, displaying gleaming white teeth. Hook could almost see her thoughts as she envisioned squeezing his heart.

"Fine," he said angrily, his bravado significantly depleted and his expression hardening as he debated whether or not to divulge this last reason, when it would almost assuredly earn her wrath again. Throwing caution to the wind, he decided to put all his faith in a last ditch effort to avoid manipulating the Swan girl. "There's one more thing – " he paused for emphasis. "It'll never work because," he inhaled, "she knows you have my heart. She figured it out", he finished lamely, shrugging. He didn't need to go on; they both understood that Emma could never trust anything he said – and not just on a hunch, but legitimately – because Cora could be speaking for him.

Cora's grin dropped and almost fell onto Hook's face, a flicker of hope brightening within him. Moments passed as Hook waited for her reply, never taking his eyes off her as she turned away from him, deep in thought, finding ways to overcome the issue. After a while, she stopped dead in her tracks and let out a relieved laugh. _Damn, _he thought. _Sorry Emma. _

"It's simple", she began, turning back to him. "You will tell her I gave it back. There'll need to be physical evidence, of course, which I can provide, and an explanation too." Vaguely aware of Cora telling him what to say, Hook's heart sunk in his chest as Emma's hopeless face came to mind; the one he wasn't supposed to see before he'd left her alone in the room. He couldn't help it – he liked her. Liked her in the way that made him want to be close to her, press his body against hers, and hate himself all over again for the likely effect his betrayal would have on her, and – worse still – that he would be the one to inflict it.

"You are excused", Cora spoke, shattering his thoughts.

He turned around blankly, not interested in spending another minute in her presence. Taking his heart was one thing; using it to then manipulate him to do her dirty work was something else entirely.

"Wait", he blurted out mid-turn, his thoughts speaking for him again. "Why? Why have me do this?" he questioned without missing a beat.

She smiled at him, and it almost seemed genuine. Her hands rested on her skirt in their typical position on top of each other when she spoke again:

"All will be revealed in good time, my dear Captain", she replied ominously, deliberately remaining ambiguous.

Hook made towards the door again, knowing that he wasn't going to get any more out of her for the time being. He felt her eyes on his back as he crossed the threshold into the corridor, wondering – no, doubting – how he was ever going to make Emma Swan trust him.

"_Shit", _he muttered under his breath.


End file.
